No One Mourns the Wicked
by MyVisionIsDying
Summary: No one mourns the wicked- therefore nobody should mourn Khan, right? Left with flowers in her hands and her eyes sore from crying only she can mourn the most wicked person known to Starfleet. One-shot. Khan/OC


Author's Note: Before I go any further, inspiration for this came from the song No One Mourns the Wicked from the musical; Wicked. It just fits with what I'm going with. And if anyone wants me to continue it then I will. It was also intended that the identity of this mysterious woman was not revealed. And no, I do not own Star Trek (nor Wicked) because well, I'm just a fanfic writer.  
_~Vision_

* * *

When Starfleet laid Khan and his crew to rest in their cryotubes, they told the rest of the world they had died and everyone continued living, soon forgetting about the whole ordeal that could have potentially destroyed the entire human race. People didn't cry, they were not upset that Khan and his crew were gone because _no one mourns the wicked._ Simple as.

It was all over the news; on television, the internet and newspapers. The headlines read: _Good news! He's dead!_

Always focused on Khan, every single news report was about him and his plan to obliterate every single human on the planet. It was obvious that most gossip was about Khan, he was their leader after all. But he was safe- as well as his crew- in cryotubes hidden somewhere at Starfleet where only those trusted would know the location.

_No one cries; "They won't return!"_

She cried, in the privacy of her apartment where he had promised her he would return after he had fixed the situation. But he didn't. He made it worse. He broke that promise and never returned. She found out the hard way- by hearing it from other people. Not even a notification from Starfleet. She had been enraged.

_No one lays a lily on their grave._

In her hand she held a bouquet of lilies- his favourite flowers. He had arrived on a date with a single lily which he had proceeded to give to her, within a second her heart had melted and she fell for him. His mannerisms, his appearence- everything about him she loved, she didn't care if he was some genetic brutal maniac. She knew he wouldn't hurt her because he loved her. She trusted him. Between them, lilies were their sign of trust.

With her chocolate brown hair tied up into a simple ponytail she walked. With the flowers in her hand and a basket in the other, she made her way across Starfleet Headquaters' campus.

Does goodness really know that the wicked's lives were lonely? Does goodness really know that the wicked would die alone? Goodness knows nothing about no one so why would goodness know about the wicked. Almost everyone had been wicked at one point in their life, be it minor or major.

There were murmers from people who huddled into small groups to talk about what had happened, questions rose in the air.

_"How exactly dead is he?"_

_"Why does wickedness happen?"_

_"Are people born wicked? Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?"_

"Such absurd questions!" she snapped at the inquisitive first year cadets, "Keep to your own business, you do not need to know his motivations. The past is in the past." she clutched the lilies and basket and briskly paced before one of the cadets could reply. She was angry, only she knew him. She knew why his was the way he was and she helped him. In a way one could say she healed him. She _loved him_.

An abandoned shuttle hangar, that was where she halted. Nobody dared to walk past the hangar, let alone go inside. As stated by Starfleet, only trusted officers were to enter and check the hangar that housed the cryotubes and she was one of the trusted. Her fingers lightly graced the keypad, unlocking the huge door to the hanger. Slowly it slid open with the sound of metallic squeaks and rattles.

Once inside and allowed the door to close she made her way along the aisle, walking between the two rows of cryotubes under the dim light of the hangar. The sound of her footsteps filling the eerie and silent space.

_Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty._ She counted each cryotube she passed, making sure she had not passed him.

Suddenly, protruding out from the right hand row of cryotubes was the extra seventy-third cryotube and she broke out into a jog towards it, stopping as his face came into view. So peaceful in his frozen sleep. The last time she had seen him so relaxed was when he was lying beside her, in her bed back at her apartment. She rested the lilies at one end of the cryotube before circling around to the other end to look at him more closely.

_No one mourns the wicked!_

She began to sob, her arms embracing his cryotube into a hug. She missed him, she truly did.

_Now at last, he's dead and gone!_

He wasn't going to be woken up. If he was he'd pose another threat, unless she could help him escape and they could live in hiding on another planet somewhere away from Starfleet.

_Now at last, there's joy throughout the land!_

There was never going to be joy. No happiness. When someone dies there are people who are sad and there are people who are happy. But he wasn't dead, he was just gone. And she continued to cry.

"No one mourns the wicked." a faint whisper that came from her, nobody else would know her pain. People were oblivious, they were out living their lives.

_Good news!_

"No one mourns the wicked." she whispered again- _only I mourn the wicked, for the sake of everyone else's ignorance._

_Good news!_

She suddenly realised her fingers were grazing the keypad on the cryotube, the tips of her fingers brushing the cold glass as the numbers lit up. She looked up and scanned the hangar for anyone that could have followed her. Silence. Chewing her lip she inhaled and began to punch in a code on the cryotube's keypad without hesitation or worry.

_No one mourns the wicked!_


End file.
